THE OLD GUILDHALL.
“When the job was over,” pursued old Timothy, “they washed the stripes with salt and water. Old Sally Shake-the-Pail, as they called her, wud come round with salt and water, and sponge their backs. They used, I’ve heard, some of ’em, to scream fit to leave their skins behind; whilst others, grandam used to say, would never speak, lay on the lash as they would, and walk round the town smilin’, so braced up war they, to appear as if they didn’t mind a farthin’ piece.
PAINS AND JUDGMENTS
“The Judgments, as they war called,” continued my informant, “took place on market days. Then it war as they put a bridle on the scolds.
“Lor!” chuckled old Timothy, “’tis a scurvy pity as they can’t clap ’em on now. There’s many a wench as would be the better for it. There be Rachel Hodgkis, own cousin to Young Polly, and Mary Ann James, my great-nevy’s wife, as ’twould do pounds of good to. But things are changed now, and ’tis all the women folks as have got the upper hand, and any pelrollick may grin, flount, jeer, and abuse as much as it plaizes her now. But in the old times it war different—different altogether.”
Then old Timothy went on to say, “Many’s the time as I’ve seen Judy Cookson in a bridle. Her war a terrible sight in one. Her wud scream and yell till her mouth fair ran with blood. Judy, folks said, cud abuse against any—in fact,” old Timothy said, with local pride, “I think her cud have given points to many in Shrewsbury. Her war that free with her tongue, and bountiful of splitters.
“Besides these old judgments,” said Timothy, “I’ve seen many strange things—sale of wives, and such-like trifles. Did yer ever hear, marm, the story of how Seth Yates sold his wife?” There was a pause, then Timothy drew breath and began afresh. “It must have been seventy years and odd,” he declared, “but I mind it all as if war yesterday. A bit of a showery day, rain on and off, but sunshine between whiles.
“Yates, the husband, he lived at Brocton, and he and his missus couldn’t git on nohow. They fought, they scratched, and scrabbled like two tom-cats that had met on the roof. Mattie, they said, would screech and nag, and then Seth wud take up a stick and lay it on sharp. This went on for weeks, till the neighbours said there was no peace, and that they cud bear it no longer. The hurly-burly and rampage war that disgraceful.
“So Mattie thought matters over. She had a Yorkshire cousin at the hall, came from Barnsley, or some such outlandish place, her said, and her thought out, by her advice, how her cud carry out a separation with her man. ‘Getting shunt,’ Venus, her cousin, named it; for it appears in Yorkshire yer can sell yer wife, same as yer dog, if yer’ve got a mind, and even the bishops there say ’tis a handy practice. So Mattie said what can be done in Yorkshire can be done in Shropshire, for ’tis the same king as rules over the land.
“Seth he spoke up for a private sale; but Mattie said, ‘I war married in public, and I’ll be sold in public,’ for her war fearful of the law, seeing what back-handers the law can give, when they mightn’t reasonably be expected. And so they settled as all should be done fair and square, and above board on market day. Then for once folks said the pair they agreed.”